The Return To Innocence

Let's see.
Coffee, protein fruit smoothie, amazing yoga pants from Rugged Warehouse, comfy bra by Barely Breezies, massive pain drugs, brain sickness drugs, athletic socks, big librarian glasses, best couch in the world, cuddly cats, Netflix via PS3 on a 52-inch wall mounted flat screen TV, novel up and running, story outlines writing themselves, migraine weakly gasping for sustenance, me laughing sadistically.
This is a good Sunday.
Later, I will finish reading "Emperor Mollusk Versus The Sinister Brain" by A. Lee Martinez and then "Trance" by Kelly Meding, and then call my therapist to discuss some stupid OCD compulsions.
Oh, and also, I spent a few glorious minutes on the phone with the wonderful Rose with her sweet Celtic pixie princess voice, while she compared my voice to deeply rich wine-soaked chocolate cake. Speaking to friends is of course always an incredible mood lifter.
I still feel a shadow of depression, which is unfortunately dulling me so much that I need a mask to talk to family. But at least I have that sweet close relationship with my family, even though my mother is way too good at sensing my masks.
Also, I shall practice some magic healing self massage with a touch of physics and see how far that gets me.

They say social networking is all about chronicling our lives in increments that may or may not interest other people, so here is mine, condensed into a cube of thoughts and actions. Enjoy, I guess. <3

During breakfast, I mistakenly said, "This is a really great omulet." And thus began a hilarious epic discussion about magical foods and pagan diners and food actually being amulets and talismans with D&D references. I suppose "omulet" will be an inside joke forever.
Also, it was an omelet with hash browns and kefir cheese, which actually did taste magically delicious.

I wish I could remember the actual conversation, because I was laughing so hard I probably healed part of my aches and pains.

Sigh.
So, that was either a very weird complex partial seizure or a rare psychic experience. Or both. Regardless, I'm off to take some medicine and rest my brain. I think I used too many spears.

I do not remember much. What little I can recall involved synesthesia turned up to eleven when I closed my eyes, hyperactive shapes and sounds rushing into my brain, and a deep sense of expansion far beyond anything I could describe - like being in a craft flying toward outer space itself; a sense of G-forces pressing me down until I spiraled into darkness and then saw nothing but brilliant dots of light and sensed nothing but trillions of unexplainable entities, everywhere, all at once. There was so much heat and cold simultaneously, blackness and ice and fire without air, crushing me into a bare essence of a sentient being. It was as though I were coming apart atom by atom. I was screaming without sound. When it stopped, I couldn't hear, see, feel, or speak for a minute or two. When I managed to open my eyes, I was lying twisted against the back of the couch, gasping heavily, sweat pouring down my face. I truly do not know what happened. I am struggling to hold on to even a tiny bit of that memory, but it is fading even as I write this. I'm sorry.

The transcript for the Futurama episode "Godfellas."
Bender's conversation with the God Galaxy is the main reason why this is one of my favorite episodes. It is also part of why, ten years ago, I declared myself a pantheistic polytheistic polyagnostic eclectic pagan witch who observes humanistic paganism and spiritual humanism. It is also part of why I am convinced that magic and physics go together like limes and coconuts.
http://www.futurama-madhouse.net/scripts/3acv20.shtml

FYI, this particular postictal state (after seizure state) has me somewhat energetic and verbose as well as mildly hypergraphic, despite the migraine and burning muscles and spastic limbs and aching nerves. I am going to try and direct that energy into writing chapters and stories now. Questions are welcome.

I also wanted to add a photo. I have gotten into a habit of photographing my face after certain seizures, to document the physical aftereffects even if I am the only one who sees them. I have a few friends in the medical industry who might understand why I do this. One such friend mentioned that in this picture, my usual spastic imbalance due to cerebral palsy is not there, meaning that the seizure wore me out so badly that my facial muscles went fully lax and exhausted, with no spastic hemiplegia on the left side. My normal is gone right now, turned into everyone else's normal. It does make me sad, because now I don't look like myself; I look alien. My face doesn't look imbalanced or shifted or compensated. That seizure obviously took it out of me, because I am also fatigued and lethargic beyond description.
But this is very good to know, so I can keep an eye out for future seizure effects.

I kind of feel like throwing a tantrum and whining. You know, "Why meee? I don't wanna hurt like this! Make it stooop! I'm so tiiired!"
But part of growing up and growing wise is learning to understand how far you can raise your limits.
If there is one platitude I will forever hate, it is the "You have no limits, they are all just in in your mind" bullshit. I certainly do have my limitations. I just have to keep pushing them more and more so it takes more strength to reach them, and along the way I slowly grow stronger in my own way. Once I reach those limits, I exhaust myself, then I rest, and then I push the limits even more, because it's a goal, like climbing a mountain. I don't "push past my limits" - I push my limits beyond so I can keep reaching for them.
Just because I have my limits does not mean I can't surpass them. They will always be there, but the farther away they are, the stronger I become as I work toward them.
But I do allow myself the occasional stomping and screaming and getting angry at the pain along the way, because Dealing With It tends to get very old and very exhausting. Being told to slap on a metaphorical bandage and walk it off makes me snarl and growl. Being told to use the pain as a focus makes me determined. My pain can be a weapon in a way.
I have held these powerful masks and walls in place all my life, and eventually I must let them all come crashing down, and I have no idea what will happen then, I just know it will not be pleasant or good at all. I refuse to bow or bend to anyone else's ideas of what it means to push through pain, but I will absolutely work with my own views. If I bend, I won't break. But even if I do break, I will put myself back together. I am a Diamond. I am Steel. I am a Rose. I am a Lotus. I am fragile and powerful and You Can't Tell Me What To Do. Unless I like what you're telling me. Then I will be happy with your advice and your views. But do not ever tell me what I cannot do for myself, because You Are Not Me. I Am Not You. One Person Is Not Another Person. Here, let us trade shoes and figure out what it is really like.
I am full of love right now, I am shining so intensely that I can barely see past my own soul. Who wants some Love? Who wants some Shiny Love? Seriously, I am radiating energy and power so insanely that all three cats are staring at me, all purring, and I can actually sense all the trees in the neighborhood bending slowly toward my house. I have no idea what any of this means, but I do know that I am full of a powerful thing that I cannot explain in words. I will do my best to help you Shine and Feel Loved as I sit here, by myself, with my cats and my toys and my books and my medicines. I am made of stars, just like you. We are the universe exploring its own imagination.
It's All Good.

Ahh, the longest day of the year. Happy Summer Solstice! Soaking up all that energy will be easy today. Also all that psychic energy, that will be fun. And shiny, really shiny.

Meditating magic shall happen! Whee!

Part One: (and also this story is mostly stream of consciousness and probably will not make sense...)
"In an alien dimension, a thousand years in the future, I lived near a palace. My name was Annalira Lotus Rose Fox. My two middle names came about because after my birth, our ponds and gardens grew multi-colored lotus flowers and multi-colored wild roses when it should have been impossible.
My family was full of shapeshifters; the favored creatures were foxes and cats, falcons and owls, and so the family names reflected all of that. My parents were Foxes, and I should have been as well. I was the odd one out because I couldn't change shape, but parts of me could change in other, weird ways. My eyes changed between coffee and honey and periwinkle, my hair changed between dark chestnut and golden auburn and raven black, my skin changed between snow white and warm ivory and light bronze. Usually none of these color shifts matched and there were always bizarre shifts and combinations. I always wore cosmetics because I saw too many problems, always wanting to conceal blemishes and brighten colors. I became very skilled at mixing oils, creams, and skin potions for my siblings and cousins and friends, because I needed to for myself. I looked very young even as I approached adulthood, and one of my best friends decided that I would never look old. I laughed nervously every time she said that. She thought I was the most beautiful woman she knew, and I let her think that because beauty is always subjective. Her brother hinted that she was in love with me. One day I will tell her that I always knew and that I love her too. One day, I will learn telekinesis from her, because that is her biggest talent, and that day might be our first date. I will probably marry a man one day but I will probably marry her too.
I was the smallest and shortest one in my entire family. They nicknamed me Little Bright Fox, and said that while my voice was soft it carried for miles. My aura was giant, they said. When I played with magic, I could make my energies visible in a way nobody else could. Those energies were extremely shiny and multicolored, which was uncommon.
I didn't have any specific talent the way most people in my country had. I had several small skills that I often blundered through. I was a born storyteller and artist, a psychic sensitive and an empath in many ways. My parents sheltered me too much. My birth was upsetting and I nearly died several times. An Owl uncle and a Cat aunt both said that I was too close to the Veil Beyond and to other realms, that entities beyond the veil could sense me as much as I could sense them. I grew up with physical and neurological pains that the best medicine couldn't heal, neither technology nor sorcery. My family made sure I had the best they could offer, but the Owls and the Cats kept predicting hard and intense life roads for me. They gave me medicines for the brain seizures and the mental imbalances, for the muscle spasms, the body fatigues, the nerve damages. I would be lame and weak, delicate and fragile for the rest of my life, but the Falcons predicted that on the inside I would become steel and diamond, supernova and volcano.
When one of my Falcon cousins discovered that I was able to cross dimensions without suffering the usual side effects, she was unable to keep it a secret, and the royal family asked me to work for them. After reviewing my medical disabilities, they set up a special financial and benefits account for me so I would be protected during my interdimensional travels. Walking into the Between never damaged me in any way; the Queen and the royal doctors assumed it was because I had been born partially gripping the Veil Beyond in my psychic hands. All of my Walks in the Between actually felt good, energizing and electrifying in powerful ways. It was how I discovered some of my stronger hidden talents. By the time I had finished an unheard of dozen Walks in the Between without any negative effects, my name had spread across the country, for both good and ill..."

I know that for the sake of sanity, we humans need to create things to believe in so we can make sense out of chaos, and that sometimes our creations come to life in amazing ways due to our fabulous powers of creativity, illusion, philosophy, and reason. But I've always wondered if believing in anything beyond ourselves means quietly giving up parts of our sanity to a chaotic, infinite, maddening universe or multiverse, thus allowing us to be able to stay calm and rational if we ever do see the faces of the multiverse in the forms of cosmic forces, divine minds, supernatural entities, infinite patterns, etcetera.
Or perhaps my mind is just so open to the possibility of everything that I can believe anything without claiming that something specific is an ultimate truth. In the end, there is no ultimate truth, just pieces of chaos floating through the collective unconscious that each person interprets to soothe individual uncertainties regarding life, death, and forces beyond control. After all, we humans really want to either be in control or have something be in control so we feel safe and comfortable. Because the multiverse is uncontrollable, unsafe, uncomfortable, and ultimately unknown.

(Pay no attention to the ramblings of this agnostic eclectic pantheist polytheist pagan witch; she gets like this when on a crazy creative streak.)

(Also, this is interesting and amusing. http://www.pantheism.net/paul/faqs.htm)

http://www.druidry.org/obod/festivals/samhain.html
(I am not actually a Druid, I have no Celtic blood as far as I know, and I am a different kind of pagan. But it resonates.)

Things have been... Happening. Yesterday, today, guaranteed to continue tomorrow. I have been having memories outside of my lifetime, outside of this whole reality, and I am Learning Things that make me want to cringe and also exclaim "Oh! So that's why. Well. I suppose can live with that. I don't have a choice."

There has been a resonating. Energy. Mind. Nature. Physics. Whatever the hell it is. I don't explain it because I can't. It just happens. It's just there. It's in the elements, yes, all those elements too. It's physical, it's mental, it's emotional, it's psychological, it's social, it's spiritual. I don't wonder why some people can't or won't feel it. Why should they? It doesn't affect them.

My atheist mother raised me to be a skeptic; she can't quite understand why I "believe in magic." That's the wrong phrase. I believe in the art and science of using my personal energy, essence, intention, and willpower to create small subtle changes in my environment and myself. The term "magic" is just easier to say with two syllables. Magic is also a by itself. It does what it does. It's not explainable. It's fickle. It may be about intention and personal power but it doesn't have to listen. It doesn't always work. It doesn't make me a superhero or a sorcerer. My mother actually asked once, somewhat glibly, "If you and your friends can do magic, why haven't they healed you yet?" Oh, mother. No. No. It doesn't work that way. Nothing works that way. The symptoms lie thick and twisted on the surface, while the shattered core and the broken source run so deep that they can't be reached yet. It's about the small things I can touch right now, not the huge things I can't reach even later.

The universe is so old and so huge, and yet people love to think that everything should be contained somehow, should be shrunk down to be studied and understood by religion and science. We cannot comprehend something so amazingly macrocosmic.

There are aliens out there. There are other worlds out there. There are alternate dimensions out there. There are supernatural things out there. I know, but I don't understand. I can't explain anything. I don't understand everything. I don't even understand myself. I don't want to be contained. I want to feel. I want to know. I don't care if someone thinks I am misinformed or foolish. Things exist. Things happen. Explanation is futile. Really, it doesn't even matter. That's all I understand for now.

Anyway.
Resonating. Memories. Things. I've been seeing things, sensing things, feeling things, hearing things, knowing things. No explanation. I don't want an explanation. Tonight, the veil between life and death is thin, and stuff is happening. Skeptics won't feel it. Fellow sensitives might feel it. I do indeed feel it. There is something looking over my shoulder today.

Fell asleep for two hours due to feelings of sick awfulness and ohgodburningow, possibly a massive flare mimicking actual illness, or maybe actual illness, I don't even know right now.

Had a deeply disturbing dream in which I was trapped in a small dark room, tied up and gagged. My entire body felt bruised, beaten, and bloodied. Voices outside the door kept insisting that I "not be allowed to perform the spell again or it will cause the destruction of reality." I was confused, hurt, crying, and obviously wounded. I hadn't been trying to unravel reality anyway; I had been trying for a completely different sort of spell. But there must have been certain words that I had misspoken or misinterpreted. I began working a silent spell to teleport myself out. It worked, and I found myself lying on a velvet couch in an opulent living room. The man and woman sitting in the chairs across from me smiled and congratulated me. They untied me. The woman helped me to a bathroom and told me to luxuriate in the bath and shower while she got my room and clothes ready. I seemed to know who they were but outside the dream I didn't know their names. I cleaned myself up, and then the woman helped me to a bedroom and massaged me with an oil blend that soothed my injuries. She gave me a pill to help with pain and sleep. She told me she and her husband would be in the living room when I woke up, and we would all eat and they would help me control my "wild magic" a little better. I fell asleep peacefully, and woke up in my own bed, in my own world.
I'm hoping to continue the dream later. I have this urgent sense that I know exactly what that was all about, not just concerning my spirituality but other parts of me. I just can't figure it out right now.

Chatting with my husband with AIM video while he is on a job in New York. Off to take a shower soon. I really do feel beaten, bruised, and wounded, and also burning.

Fatigued.
Even with espresso.
Charlotte came over after Adam and I returned from the chiropractor.
We had a yoga session downstairs, after I took a Soma and got relaxed enough.
My nerves are still on humming edge. My ninety-day evaluation at work happens on Monday morning. I am sure my boss likes me enough, but hell, I don't actually know. He seems to be dropping hints about the future, like projects happening later in the year, but I've never done this before, I have no idea. I have been so highly stressed that I have vibrated on occasion. Have you done a three-month evaluation?
Cats are always, always ideal for calming me down. So is husband. I love practicing magic and meditation with him. I love living magic with him.

Dreaming, Chuang Tzu became a butterfly;
Waking, the butterfly became a man.
Who knows which is real?
Who know where endless changes end?
The waters of the deepest sea
Return to the smallest stream.
The melon-grower outside the city gate
Was once the King of the Hill.
Even rank and riches eventually disappear.
You know, and still you toil.

-Daily Zen